


Flammable

by VenetaPsi



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Breakup, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Moving On, No character bashing, SMiiCat, Tyler has emotions, Tyler is more than an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi
Summary: “You’ve been acting like an absolute insufferable ass, Tyler, and while that isn’t anything new from you you’re being particularly fucking awful and I’m goddamn sick of listening to your shit.” It took one step forward from the shorter and then they were chest to chest, and Tyler stared, frozen, held by the violent flicker in those pale brown eyes, the sharp edge to his best friend’s voice, the suffocating stillness.“You can either fucking leave or shut your goddamn mouth,” Scott snapped.Tyler’s jaw closed with an audible click.





	Flammable

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fourzer0Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714157) by [thespottedowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespottedowl/pseuds/thespottedowl). 

_ ”Why not, Tyler. Why won’t you do it?” _

_ _ _ “Fuck I- I don’t know, Kelly okay, it just- it fucking scares me-” _

_ _ _ “No it doesn’t, Tyler. A couple things scare you, but this isn't one of them. You have no issues about the idea of marriage. You have an issue with me.” _

_ _ _ “That’s not true! I love you.”  _

_ _ _ He reached out and pulled her close, stared into brown eyes and tried to express his honesty, that he well and truly believed the words he spoke. Her pale fingers cupped his jaw, and a sad, sweet expression peered up at him.  _

_ _ _ “Babe.” _

_ _ _ So mournful, that voice was. Tyler’s heart ached. _

_ _ _ “You don’t see what I see.” _

_ _ _ “Then help me to,” He begged, clenching his fist behind her back to hide the trembling in his hands because he didn’t like this conversation, didn’t like that edge in his girlfriend’s voice. _

_ _ _ She shook her head and smiled at him in that quiet, indulgent way she did when he was oblivious to something.  _

_ _ _ “I can’t change who you are, love.” _

_ _ _ The words, the finality, the endearment sent a shiver down Tyler’s spine, and his embrace tightened, fear rattling through him.  _

_ _ _ “Is this because I’m an asshole?”  _

_ _ _ Her expression softened at the tremble in his words, and her other hand rose to join the first, cradling his face lightly.  _

_ _ _ “You’re a sweetheart, Tyler. No, this has nothing to do with your personality. I love you.” _

_ _ _ “Then why are you talking like you're gonna break up with me?” Tyler blurted, the words wracked and fearful and betraying every emotion he was so desperately trying to control.  _

_ _ _ “Because I think I am,” she whispered, and there were tears on both of their cheeks.  _

_ _ _ “I love you,” he swore, like a promise, a desperate final plea, because he did,  _ he did-

_ _ _ She shook her head slowly, and she was beautiful; pale hair that swirled around her cheeks, and dark, intelligent eyes glittering with sorrow. _

_ _ _ “You can’t,” She said, and Tyler’s world fell apart. _

\---

Tyler stared down at the remnants of a controller on his desk. 

Broken, twisted plastic was scattered across his keyboard and mouse pad, wires hung limply from a distorted casing and his friends laughed hysterically in Tyler’s ears, echoed from his headphones. 

It was just a game. 

His breath trembled with rage, with disgust, with self loathing as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, staring at the destroyed electronic. 

_ ”God DAMN IT!” He screamed, arms raising and flying down, and there was a sharp, satisfying ‘CRACK’ as his controller shattered, and the anger exploded in his chest; hot and fierce and painful. _

“Did he break his controller?” Someone, Brian, gasped between giggles, like Tyler couldn’t hear him, like they weren’t all sure that was exactly what Tyler’d done. 

Anger blazed white hot in his throat and heart, fighting the thick, consuming numbness in his fingers and legs and Tyler’s breath trembled because  _ fuck, he was so fucking mad and it was just a game- _

“I think so,” Nogla chortled in response, and something in Tyler cracked. 

“Yeah no  _ shit _ that’s what I did, you fucking bitch, ‘aw gee, I wonder what Tyler broke-’ go fuck yourself cunt!” He snarled, and next thing he knew his chair was on the ground and he was storming through a door and he couldn’t think between the air clogging his throat and the tightness in his chest and the burning in his eyes.

He curled up on his kitchen floor, his shaking arms holding tight to Archie’s middle, trying to drown his rage in the calmness of his dog’s presence. A warm nose nudged his back and Archie whined softly in his throat to Kino, who’d appeared behind him, and Tyler tried to think of nothing else but the two warm animals around him. 

Archie licked his face lightly, and a strangled giggle forced its way out from between Tyler’s lips, closer to a wheeze and a sob then genuine laughter. 

It was a start. 

He didn’t return to the recording session. 

\---

The 4th of July party was annual, at this point, and for the first time in three years, Tyler didn’t want to host it. He did, however, because it was something familiar and routine to do, and he became sucked into the invitations and arrangements and sorting out the arguments about who would sleep where. 

He watched with amusement the discord text-chat over a sandwich as Evan, like always, offered to sleep on the air mattress in the living room. It was quite amusing to watch Smitty blow up at him (“Evan, you’ve gotten barely enough fucking sleep as is, you’re sleeping in a real goddamn bed so help me god-”) and Kryoz gently extract an overwhelmed Vanoss from the situation by offering to sleep on the air mattress with Anthony, and giving ‘the two Canadians’ the guest bedroom. (“It’ll be fine, Smit, Vanoss’ll get a real bed and you guys can turn up the AC in there to however cold your frozen hearts desire, and I’ll be sleeping with the cuddly panda. Everyone’s pleased.”)

Another highlight was Chrissy, Scotty and Marcel arguing (jokingly) over the last free bed, because they’d all taken too long to claim and Marcel and Scott had decided they wanted to sleep together, and Chrissy, as Scotty’s girlfriend, naturally wasn’t pleased. 

It all ended in giggles when Chrissy and Marcel had an epic rock-paper-scissors match over a highly ego-stroked Scott, and Marcel ended up on a second air mattress in the parlor. 

Tyler hadn't remembered smiling fondly and rolling his eyes so much in a long time. 

__  
  
  


The days leading up to the get together however, were horribly anxiety inducing, because now it was finally hitting Tyler that he was going to have to explain to people what had happened, explain why he was suddenly living alone. 

He must’ve seemed an even bigger wreck in recording sessions then he felt, because Brian banned him from their group’s Minecraft server for the day after a fit of rage (Tyler couldn’t even remember what he had said to his poor friend, it was a blur of fury and pain and frustration about the unfairness of it all, why did everyone always pick on him-) because John called him and somehow talked Tyler into streaming with him on an individualized minecraft server. 

Tyler was pretty sure his commentary had been awful, all bitter tones and complaining over mod mechanics that really weren’t that bad, but John had been suprisingly patient with him, agreeing wholeheartedly with some of his rants and passionately pointing out how other moments were stupid. 

In the end, despite how many of his buttons John pressed, Tyler was amazingly calm, breathing normally and playing silently, listening to John thank several of his Twitch subscribers for gifting subs. 

When John suggested they did this again in the future, post stream, Tyler nodded quietly and didn’t disagree. Then the call went silent and he was finally alone. Tyler sat quietly for several minutes in the stillness, processing. 

Maybe he wasn’t the only person that dealt with problems by whining. 

__  
  
  


That weekend, Wildcat had fourteen or so people over at his house, shouting and laughing; playing games and watching TV. He was quite sure Kelly’s absence had been noticed, alongside his careful avoidance of mentioning her, and the vague answers he gave to anyone’s questions. 

The topic was quickly and silently labelled taboo, and no one spoke of it. 

Still, Tyler was far more volatile than he should’ve been. Normally, he was calmer and quieter in person then online; a classic case of introvertism in effect. However, the painful effect of his tongue working ahead of his brain had stayed, and more then once sarcastic, biting remarks he hadn’t really meant spilled from his lips, cruel and harsh and always met with an awkward silence or frowns from his friends.

Tyler’s pride was something he valued, held close, so stubbornness prevented any apology from being voiced, keep up a facade of acting like the glares and annoyance of those around him weren’t slowly tearing him apart, because goddamn it,  _ he was fine, this was fine, he’d always been the asshole of the group. No one cared. _

He made a big mistake, yelling at Evan. It hadn’t been a big deal, a harmless jibe that was common and characteristic of their troll-like friend. 

His brain slipped, and the word vomit that resulted was biting and bitchy and completely uncalled for. 

Evan went dead silent, body stiffening, and Tyler wanted to scream and rip his own hair out;  _ fuck _ , he hadn’t wanted to actually hurt anybody.

“What is your  _ problem ? _ _"_ Scott finally exploded at him, the first to do so, whipping around to face Tyler, eyes blazing with a fierceness that rarely showed. 

The entire room went dead silent, sharp intakes of breath rattling before being held; wide, stricken gazes flashed between the two of them, and the rigid, motionless Vanoss was held protectively at Scotty’s right by a pale, muscled hand.

Tyler gulped, because suddenly he felt like he wasn't getting enough air. 

“You’ve been acting like an absolute insufferable ass, Tyler, and while that isn’t anything new from  _ you, _ you’re being particularly fucking awful and I’m goddamn sick of listening to your shit.” It took one step forward from the shorter and then they were chest to chest, and Tyler stared, frozen, held by the violent flicker in those pale brown eyes, the sharp edge to his best friend’s voice, the suffocating stillness. 

“You can either fucking leave or shut your goddamn mouth,” Scott snapped. 

Tyler’s jaw closed with an audible click. 

For a heartbeat more, the entire room stayed suspended in time. Then it was broken by Chrissy, who reached out gently to hook a hand in her boyfriend’s elbow and pull Scotty out of Tyler’s bubble. 

Air filled Tyler’s lungs suddenly, and he hyperventilated under his breath like he’d been held underwater. He could feel the stares of the entire room on him as he sat down silently, hiding the faint tremble in his hands by reaching out and urging Kino to his side, pressing his face into the soft fur of his dog as slowly conversation resumed around him, cautious voices that morphed into laughter and the usual banter the group thrived on. 

Tyler stayed silent, even when half the group went to make food and Smitty returned with two plates, placing one carefully on Tyler’s lap and seating himself casually next to the tall brunet. He picked at the food because Smitty glared at him when he didn’t and tried not to focus on Scott’s voice; loud and obtrusive and oh so familiar, echoing around the room. 

Smitty let him go when Tyler silently rose to his feet, placed the cold, still-filled plate on the coffee table and slipped out of the room, followed only by the gentle clicking of paws on hardwood. 

__  
  
  


Tyler tried to ignore the gazes on his retreating back. 

__  
  
  


He hid for the rest of the evening, tossing and turning in his freezing bed and listening to the cheers and laughter from downstairs as he desperately,  _ hopelessly _ tried not to cry. 

The pillow was damp beneath his head. 

Kino rested on his chest lightly, their heartbeats matching and the sob tore it’s way free from Tyler’s throat; choked off and severely muffled, but released nonetheless, and then the flood gates opened. He hadn’t cried like that since he was a child, looking at his little sister pale and weak against hospital sheets from a sickness he couldn’t control.

He didn’t hear the door open until it was too late, and then soft, sneaker-ed feet padded across the floor and a gentle weight settled on the bed beside his trembling form, a warm hand moving to rest on his shoulder. 

“No, let it out,” Smitty firmly told him, when Tyler’s breath caught and he tried to suffocate his cries; rolled over onto his side and curled instinctively in on his giant form. “It’ll do you more harm than good to stop now. There we go. Cry, it’s alright.”

The bed shifted once more, and Smitty laid down at Tyler’s back, throwing a casual arm over his waist and hugging Kino between them, both warm weights pressing against Tyler’s t-shirt. The gentle embrace was comforting and solid, and Tyler felt so goddamn lonely, so  _ afraid, so angry _ that he just lay there, unmoving, and cried; cried out his feelings, his pain, cried into the gentle comfort Smitty provided and mourned everything he’d lost. 

“Kelly isn’t here,” Smitty whispered, not a question, and Tyler’s jagged flinch betrayed the accuracy of the observation. The shorter man spoke no more, but his hold tightened around Tyler’s waist. 

Eventually there were no more tears to cry, and silence descended over the dark room, wrapping around Tyler like a heavy, painful fog. 

“You want to talk about it?” Smitty finally asked, softly, gently and Tyler wanted so badly to snap at him, to tell him ‘no’. He swallowed tightly and heaved a breath; one, two, in and out. 

“She wouldn’t explain to me why,” He whispered, voice broken and sore, throat ragged from his fit of grief. “I don’t even know what I did. She said it was me, and she couldn’t change that.” 

“...did you love her?” Smitty asked, and Tyler was reminded of another quiet voice and pain lanced through him. 

“Yes!” He cried, voice going too loud and too high and suddenly tears were threatening to surface again. Fingers squeezed his hip lightly, a confirmation of trust, and Tyler relaxed under Smitty’s grip, going limp against the sheets. 

Eventually, the man at his back began to speak, low and methodically, though Tyler didn’t know a word he said. The foreign French flowed over him; curious and melodic, and the stillness and darkness was slowly filled with warm, unfamiliar words and a gentle voice.

Kino nudged the back of his owner’s neck lightly, snuggled between two solid bodies.

Occasionally Smitty’s phone would buzz; light and low, and there would be a pause as blue light flooded the room and the tapping of nails against glass sounded. Then the light vanished and that smooth voice started up once more, as though it’d never paused. 

Sleep crept up on Tyler slowly, washing over his worn out body and wet cheeks, holding him still beneath a firm embrace and gentle words. 

Smitty did not leave him, not even when Tyler blinked his last few visions of awareness away, and his eyes fluttered shut. 

__  
  
  


He awoke to bright light, a wet, doggy tongue on his face and a warm arm still encircling his waist; faithful and stubborn. 

Tyler smiled softly, and Kino licked away the tears that spilled from his tired eyes. 

__  
  
  


The first thing Tyler did upon gently easing himself out of Smitty’s embrace was he went and found Evan (Though not before pausing and looking down at Smitty, his heart in his throat, and easing the covers of the smaller male’s form; a thank you, of sorts).

Their dark-haired, musically talented friend was sitting alone on what was supposed to be Smitty’s and his shared bed, scrolling lightly on his phone. He glanced up when the door creaked open, and his gaze hardened minisculely upon spotting Tyler’s hesitant frame in the doorway. 

The logical part of Tyler’s brain told his this was an instinctive reaction; the remnants of Evan’s anger. The rest of him hurt. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and glanced away, unable to hold that powerful gaze as he shuffled his feet nervously.

“I’m sorry,” He finally voiced, the words a rush and dangerously close to a whisper. “You didn’t deserve that. Yesterday. What I said.”

He shot a quick, fleeting glance at Evan; the man’s lips were parted slightly in surprise before he visibly shook himself, and his frame relaxed, losing it’s hostility. 

“It’s alright, Tyler,” he said, in that quiet, sincere way of his. His tone was warm, almost, and gentle, and Tyler didn’t feel like he deserved that, didn’t feel like his apology had meant anything. 

In a rush, he stepped forward, falling down onto the bed beside a startled Evan, and wrapped his arms around the shorter’s middle, forehead resting against Evan’s dark, t-shirt covered shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into fabric, and instead of pushing away from the physical contact, like Tyler had expected, after a beat of silence one of Evan’s hands rose to cup the back of his neck gently. 

“You’re fine, Tyler.” If Evan’s voice hadn't been warmer before, it certainly was now; fond and mildly amused. “I promise. You’re not the only person to go off at people for things, and certainly not the only one of us. You were obviously having a bad day (alternative words lay unspoken between them;  _ week, month- _ ). I forgive you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

It  _ had _ been what Tyler wanted to hear, and his whole body relaxed, a gentle hand carding through his short hair once in a gesture of reassurance before the not-very-touchy-feely Evan pulled away, uncomfortableness clearly getting the better of him.

Tyler released him and scooched away to give his friend space, and Evan gave Tyler one of his small, twitch of the lip smiles and stood up. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, motioning to the door at the exact same time Tyler’s stomach rumbled, the missed meal from last night finally catching up with him. They both laughed, and Tyler rose to his feet and followed the darker man out.

He pretended not to notice how everyone in the kitchen relaxed when him and Evan entered side-by-side, chatting amicably like there hadn't been any bad blood between them, no matter how fleeting. 

As Tyler reached for food, he caught a sleep ruffled Smitty giving him a smile and a thumbs up out of the corner of his eye before the dark brunette took the plate John was trying to hand him and followed the others out into the living room. 

It was with that reassurance that he’d done this one thing right, that Tyler finally relaxed. 

__  
  
  


Still, Tyler was quiet for the rest of the morning, laughing on occasion or answering questions posed to him; but he knew anyone who’d known him for a solid period of time would be able to tell the difference. He was so scared of exploding at someone again that he forced his lips to stay closed, considering it better than the alternative. 

Noon had just passed when he was stopped from his retreat to the bathroom by a hand on his shoulder. Tyler turned to spot Scott, and his best friend was watching him with an unreadable look in his pale brown eyes, a neutral positioning to his posture. For a beat, there was silence, and then Scotty shifted, crossing his hands over his chest and scanning Tyler’s face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, low, quiet and more serious than Tyler had ever heard him speak before. 

“Of course,” Tyler responded, shooting his friend a smile as his pride got the better of him, embarrassment at the amount of tears he’d shed this weekend halting any sort of confession that may have bubbled up. 

Scott watched him for a moment, then shook his head and stepped closer, and Tyler could feel the warmth radiating off of his body.

“Tyler,” He said, calmly, gently, “I know you. You can’t hide this from me. Yes, I’m here to knock some sense into that hard skull of yours, but I’m here to support you too. We all are, you just have to let us.”

Something churned deep in Tyler’s stomach when Scott reached out and squeezed his forearm gently, before stepping back and motioning towards the bathroom. 

“Go piss,” He ordered with a roll of his eyes, and turned back towards the living room. 

The hallway felt very cold, once Tyler was alone in stillness and only his stocking-ed feet shielded him from the frigid tile floor. 

__  
  
  


Sunday afternoon hit, and most people were planning on leaving the following Monday morning, save Smitty, Scotty, Chrissy and Marcel, who Tyler suspected had arranged some sort of ‘Wildcat Support Group’ behind his back. 

Smitty was acting like a parent, or perhaps more like an exasperated elder sibling; ironic, considering the man was five years younger than Tyler. Still, Smit was the one who shoved food into Tyler’s hands when it was clear the older had forgotten nutrition was a thing, or followed him out when Tyler ran away from public places to hide in his room. 

Sunday evening found him once again curled up in bed, Smitty warm at his side as Tyler drowsily watched Youtube on his TV and listened to Smitty complain about the ‘trash that was American cooking shows’.

It was John who found them, and at first neither noticed the brunet leaning against the door frame, observing them with a calm gaze and the hint of a smirk, because the two were too wrapped up in their argument. 

“Chopped is fantastic,” Tyler whined, and Smitty rolled over to glare at him. 

“Maybe in your eyes,” the Canadian shot back, “But I think all of that shit sounds disgusting; you’ve got to be mental to be a judge on that show and try the weird shit people make.” He shuddered, and Tyler bit down a laugh. 

“I see that smirk, dumbass,” Smitty retorted, and tackled Tyler off the bed. 

They landed in a heap of blankets and limbs on the hard floor, and both promptly looked up at John when the man burst out laughing, leaning hard against the wall to steady himself.

“Well, I was sent to tell you guys that it’s getting close to firework time, but you two seem content to be happy and gay up here on your own, so I can just leave if you want to get down and dirty-” 

“John!” Smitty snapped, and lunged forward to grab his friend’s ankle, his red cheeks betraying the effect the teasing had on him. Pale fingers grabbed Kryoz’s boot and Tyler barely rolled out the way in time- _l_ _ aughing, he could hardly breath he was laughing so hard- _ before John too went crashing to the ground with a shout of shock and outrage, and Tyler’s stomach hurt he was so hysterical. 

John tried to kick Smitty away, but the younger had somehow gotten behind him and had him in a headlock, and John pathetically reached out in Tyler’s direction, pleading for help and Tyler couldn’t see straight. 

He grasped John’s ring adorned fingers and yanked, pulling the brunette free from Smitty’s grip, and everyone tumbled forward. Kryoz landed on top of him with an ‘oof’ and a sharp exhale, and Smitty went sprawling across the floor, and Tyler was so warm and content in that moment that he didn’t even blink when John laid his head on Tyler’s chest and declared he was taking a nap, and Smitty burst out laughing from the nearby floor. 

It took Scotty storming up the stairs and asking if they were coming or if they were having a ‘gay-ass threesome’ to get the laughing trio out of Tyler’s bedroom and outside in the cool air and grassy backyard, surrounded by everyone else as Scotty dramatically ranted about ‘having to bleach his eyes from seeing three men on top of one another’, which was only being encouraged by John and Smitty’s lewd comments. 

Tyler leaned against the railing and watched his friend group, the multiple boys and girls he considered his circle as they cheered and laughed and goofed off, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lonely, didn’t feel abandoned. Kino rubbed his way between his legs, and Tyler reached down to pet him idly, watching Evan listen to John passionately rant about something, smirking at the way Evan’s eyes widened comically as John’s hand gestures grew more and more flamboyant. 

Smitty settled against the railing, and it was a testament to how comfortable Tyler had gotten around the younger in such a short period of time that when Smitty slipped an arm around his back, settled a hand on his waist, Tyler didn’t so much as blink. 

“You doing okay?” The Canadian asked lowly, rising on his tiptoes to get his mouth closer to Tyler’s ear. 

Tyler looked out across his friends for a moment, at the darkness that surrounded the lit porch, and smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” He answered. “I am.”

Smitty’s fingers squeezed his waist, and Tyler let the man lean against him when finally the fireworks went off, when they all laughed as John and Anthony lit the fuses and ran away in a panic, when the sky lit in brilliant blues and reds and greens. 

He felt warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Rich Text" fucks up my formatting. Sorry


End file.
